No Pressure, No Planning, No Pookums
by pixie-tail
Summary: Listen I'm a grown woman and if I want to write 2000 words of Duncan being a soft boy instead of my dissertation, then god damnit I'm going to. Takes place after the events of episode 15 of World Tour, The Ex-Files.


A Gwuncan fanfiction? In the year of our lord 2019? Is the author having a mental breakdown?

Why yes, yes I am. Thank you for asking.

Yes, dear readers, it seems that the looming monolithic figure of the dissertation is growing ever larger on the horizon, and consequently, I have fully regressed back to my early high school self. My hair is green, I'm wearing exclusively oversized hoodies and band t-shirts, My Chemical Romance have reunited, and my phone fucking broke when I got hit by a car, so I've reverted to my iPhone 5c, complete with all my glorious emo music. A friend of mine joked that the only thing missing was my favourite tv show, and lo and fucking behold, Total Drama is on Netflix. So yeah. I wrote a fucking Gwuncan fanfiction. It's a coping mechanism. Eat my ass.

Fun fact: my name on used to be GwuncanGirl94. You wanna talk about obsessions?

**"No pressure, no planning, no pookums."**

Tyler had just gone flying out the open plane door, screams echoing into the night. Courtney was ranting about her revenge in the background while Chris talked to the camera, closing the episode in his usual manner. That manner being obnoxious, of course. Owen was doing the running man with his underwear over his head. And honestly, Gwen didn't care about any of it. Her boyfriend wasn't going home! She grinned at him from her hiding place behind the totem pole. Duncan, spying her, winked in return, a matching grin on his face.

"And that's a wrap. Good work today, crew." The on-site producer called out, and the small camera crew that accompanied them onboard the plane itself began to pack away various pieces of equipment. Having lost her audience, Courtney huffed, knocking into Gwen's shoulder as she stalked off in the direction of the confessional. _Probably to rant some more, and hopefully blow off some steam,_ Gwen thought privately.

Jumping down from the bench he'd been perched on, Duncan approached her, still grinning. He didn't hesitate as he grabbed her hand, pulling Gwen from the room.

"Where are we going?" She giggled.

"Somewhere private," he returned, smirking at her over his shoulder. "I want you all to myself."

Gwen didn't miss the fact that he'd said it loud enough for the surrounding people to hear him. Crew members sent each other sly looks, and one boom mic operator grinned lecherously at the couple as they passed. She flushed scarlet, ducking her head as they hurried by Alejandro. At least he didn't seem to care about the controversial coupling. Dude was too focused on playing the game. Finally they came to the stairwell leading to the cargo hold, and Duncan let go of Gwen's hand to descend the steps ahead of her.

"Come check it out!" He called from the bottom of the staircase. Rolling her eyes at his childlike excitement, Gwen descended the steps to meet him. Duncan stood at the last step, holding out his hand to help her down. She took it gratefully – platform boots were a real struggle sometimes. Duncan wrapped an arm around her shoulders, guiding her around a large storage crate. There, a thick plastic sheet hung from some rope, clearly acting as a curtain. Gwen raised an eyebrow at Duncan, who only grinned, before pushing the makeshift curtain to the side.

"Ta-dah!" He sang, sweeping his arm dramatically. Gwen's eyebrows shot up. Tucked behind the crate, in a cosy corner of the cargo hold, was a perfect little hang out spot just big enough for two people. Pillows and blankets were strewn across the small space to cushion the harsh metal of the plane floor, and multiple strings of fairy lights were suspended in the air between the crate and the wall. Best of all, stuck to the wall was a photo Gwen recognised. It was a polaroid of the two of them, taken back during season two on Bridgette's borrowed camera. Gwen was pulling a face, holding two fingers up behind Duncan's head, while the punk had one arm around Gwen's waist, the other raised defiantly at the camera, brandishing his middle finger. His tongue was out, and his eyes were crossed, but it was clear the two had been struggling not to laugh as the picture was taken. The photo looked faded, slightly crumpled at the edges, and _"Me N Pasty"_ had been scrawled messily in black sharpie along the bottom of the picture.

"Duncan… this is amazing." The punk shrugged, but he was smiling at the praise.

"Well you know, since we're on separate teams n' all, I wanted to have a place where we could hang out between challenges." His hand resting on her shoulder squeezed a little. "Y'know… alone. Just the two of us."

"I love it." Gwen grinned at him, leaning in for a short kiss. "This is so sweet… who knew you were such a romantic?" She crawled into the space as Duncan rolled his eyes.

"Yeah yeah, just don't go spreading it around. I do have a reputation to uphold."

Gwen snorted, gesturing for Duncan to join her as she got situated on a stack of pillows. Grinning, the boy eagerly closed the curtain behind him, crawling over her until the two were nose to nose. Duncan's smile turned soft, as he gazed at the goth girl in his arms.

"Hey there Pasty," he murmured. Gwen laughed quietly, looping her arms around his neck.

"Hiya Cyclops," she returned, and Duncan lowered his head, kissing her softly.

Gwen sighed at the feel of Duncan's hand, hot as a brand on her hip. He was kissing her so gently, so unhurriedly. There was no pressure to anything they did, no rush. The two of them together felt so natural, as if this was the inevitable final evolution of their relationship. Acquaintances, competitors, cautious friends, best friends… partners? Lovers? A tiny doubt crept into Gwen's mind. What were they to each other? They had said in the warehouse "no pressure, no planning". But what exactly was their situation? Was Duncan her boyfriend? That's how she'd been thinking of him in her own private thoughts, but what if he wanted something more casual than that?

Pulling off from her lips, Duncan began trailing soft kisses down her neck. One of Gwen's hands had made its way beneath his t-shirt, and the other was on the back of Duncan's head, combing through his green mohawk. The punk nipped playfully at her collarbones, and the goth hissed, scratching her nails across his scalp. Judging from the noise he made, Duncan had liked that, so Gwen did it again, this time pulling slightly at his hair as she did so.

"You're killin' me here," Duncan groaned, his hand roving up Gwen's body to flirt with the edge of her corset.

"Duncan… I have to ask you something."

He sighed, but obligingly pulled away from Gwen, rolling to the side and propping his head up on one hand. The other stayed on her hip, his thumb brushing comfortingly back and forth across the smooth skin on show.

"Okay, shoot."

"Do you wish things had gone differently with Courtney?"

Duncan frowned, his eyebrow piercing glinting in the fairy lights.

"What do you mean?" Gwen sighed heavily.

"What we did wasn't right. We went behind her back, and I still feel terrible about it."

"Do you regret it?" The look Duncan was giving her was searching, concerned. Gwen took a moment to trace her thumb along his jawline before she answered.

"No."

"Good," Relief was clear on Duncan's face. "Listen Gwen, Courtney and I… our relationship was toxic at the best of times. We hurt each other, a lot. We were too different, everything one of did pissed the other one off. Our relationship was on the rocks long before I even thought I might have feelings for you." He paused there to smile at Gwen, who returned it weakly.

"After I got kicked off the plane I spent a lot of time travelling, until I met up with _Der Snitchzel Kickers_ in Amsterdam, where we are so visiting after one of us wins this stupid competition." He grinned at the goth girl in his arms. "Nothing better than getting high without being paranoid the cops are gonna bust the door down any minute" Duncan winked cheekily, and Gwen laughed, shoving playfully at the punk. Duncan caught her hand easily and held onto it, lacing their fingers together. He brought their hands to his lips and pressed a kiss to the back of Gwen's hand, his eyes never leaving hers. It was cheesy, but Gwen found herself fighting a dreamy sigh.

"Anyway, touring with the band meant a lot of long van journeys, and a lot of time to think. And it didn't take me long to realise I didn't miss Courtney, like at all. In fact, I felt kinda free. But in every country, every city, I'd catch myself thinking "Man I wish Gwen was here", or "wow Gwen would love this". Someone would crack a joke, and I'd look around to see if you laughed too. And when I didn't see you, it hurt.

"When I saw you in the crowd in London, I thought I was dreaming. And then I saw Courtney, and I knew I had to break up with her. On the plane, I was on my way to find her when I barged in on you in the confessional, and well…" He grinned dopily. "You just looked stupidly pretty."

"And then Tyler saw us." Gwen added.

"And then Tyler saw us," Duncan nodded, frowing. "Bastard ruined everything. I'd been waiting for the right time to take Courtney to the side and break up with her. Doing it on tv just seemed too cruel, even after the way she'd treated me."

"Huh… that's actually really nice of you." Duncan looked almost embarrassed.

"Yeah, I guess… didn't turn out that way though. So yeah, I do wish things had gone differently. For one I wouldn't have this," he gestured to his black eye. "But do I regret it? Absolutely not." He pulled her close and purred into her ear. "I've wanted this for a long time."

He kissed the space below her ear, once, twice, before sucking harshly, clearly attempting to create a mark.

"Want everyone to know that you're mine." He growled.

"Your what though?"

Duncan pulled back once more, looking confused. _Oops,_ Gwen thought. She hadn't meant to say that aloud.

"Come again?"

Gwen squirmed, unable to meet his eye.

"I know we said before no planning, no pressure…" Screw it, here goes nothing. "but I need to know. What are we? What do I call you?"

Duncan chuckled, staring at Gwen in disbelief.

"Well Pasty, I thought that was obvious," He tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, and smiled down at her. "I'm yours, babe." He kissed her soundly, with no room for argument. He kissed her with everything he had, every ounce of passion he felt for her. Gwen melted in his embrace, kissing back with equal enthusiasm, threading her hand back into his mohawk and hooking one leg over his hip.

"As for what you can call me," he said between kisses, "Anything but "pookums" suits me just fine."

The couple didn't talk for a long time after that.

* * *

My kink? Edgy boys being soft in private.

Listen I'm aware that this is absolute garbage but anything is better than writing my dissertation tbh.


End file.
